“Oh, one of yer ancestors,” the dark man laughed, his eyes twinkling. How curious, this boy, who did not behave like a child. This was a sign, and for Larkspur, who believed that there were signs all around him, one not taken lightly. Perhaps there had been a reason for him to come along this abandoned road, and to find a…nephew, perhaps. A relative that came from the weak and unworthy bloodline that had spread from his aunt appeared in the wild, in this forsaken place that Misery had abandoned twice now.
There was a shrug of one broad shoulder, unsure of the title he should be given. His eyes shut for a moment, focusing inward, focusing on that whispering voice. Larkspur’s focus was broken as the boy spoke again, his tone changing and his tempo increasing. Both eyes opened, one after the other, and focused on the smaller wolf with an uncanny intensity. The Khalif were not here; Lord help him if they were. “No,” he said flatly, his voice dropping a dangerous octave. “They ain’t. Y’won’t find any of ‘em outside t’Khalif. S’where,” he added, anticipating the question. “, our family is from.”
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